


Filled With Red

by angstytimelord



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blood, Crime Scenes, Empathy, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-08
Updated: 2013-10-08
Packaged: 2017-12-28 20:44:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/996473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angstytimelord/pseuds/angstytimelord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will has never had this hard a time disengaging from the mind of a killer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Filled With Red

Will raised his hands, blinking when he saw the blood on them.

He should expect to see blood on his hands at a crime scene, shouldn't he? After all, he'd done this. He had killed this man, without a second thought as to what he was doing. He had sliced the knife across his victim's throat and felt .... _pleasure_.

Slowly, he stood up, holding his hands out in front of him. He had to was them, had to remove the blood before he left this hotel room.

Then he could melt into the crowds in the city, disappear into the rest of society. He would never be found; he was far too clever for that.

He backed up another step -- then closed his eyes, reality setting in.

He hadn't done this. He was in the mind of a killer, more intimately than he'd ever been before. He'd actually felt the pleasure of the kill -- his erection was proof of that.

He took a deep breath, then another. The scent of blood was lodged in his nostrils; it was all around him, making him feel dizzy. It was drawing him back into the mind of the killer -- he'd never had such a hard time snapping himself out of that mindset and back into reality.

It was a good thing that no one was here in the room with him to see the condition he was in.

Will opened his eyes and looked at his hands -- to find that there was no blood there. The red had vanished; he had imagined it all while his empathy had held him in its grip. He had knelt by the body, but he hadn't touched it. His hands were clean.

All of the red was on the body lying there in front of him, and all around it. Soaked into the carpet, into the dead man's clothes.

There was no red discoloring his own clothes. No blood. He hadn't killed. 

But his mind was still filled with red.


End file.
